


Long Denied Truth

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Undead Chosen One [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Blood Drinking, Gen, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Confidence Issues, Vampire Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: The people around the undead Chosen One try to recover and deal with what happened.Coping expresses itself in many ways, and the long reach of Qui-Gon's influence looms dark.And Obi-Wan angst. Lots and lots of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third and final part to the arc that started with Reversion.

 

Rex would never forget the look on Senator Amidala's face.

Skywalker stared up at her, waiting for an answer—

But no one could give him one.

He lurched to his feet, turned, took a step towards Obi-Wan.

He was met by a chorus of panicked voices.

“No, no—”

“ _Wait_!”

“ _No,_ wait—”

And a few other varieties.

Skywalker looked back at them, his movements lacking coordination. More confusion filled his face.

And then he fell to his knees by the trembling Jedi Master.

He reached out, tracing blood-stained fingertips across the sweating forehead, down the cheek, leaving crimson in their wake.

He lowered his head—

Ahsoka had her hands on the tiny box that would send Skywalker under again—

He pressed his forehead into Kenobi's shoulder, a shiver wracking his own shoulders.

And then a sob tore through his throat.

Rex's legs refused to hold him any longer.

He slid down the wall to the floor, stunned by the enormity of what they had passed through.

The shuttle quivered as it reverted to realspace—

Skywalker turned to stone—

Cody's voice came through on the comms, sounding desperate. “Shuttle, this is the Negotiator _._ Do you copy?”

Not a sound in the tiny ship, save for Tup somewhere in the cockpit, keying the comm. “ We hear you, and we think we're all still alive.” Then called back to the silent compartment, “Are we?” just to be sure.

Rex sought out Ahsoka's eyes, understanding the haunted look within them. She couldn't seem to endure the gaze of his visor, her own skittering away.

“Is he all right?” the Senator demanded, her holographic form fidgeting. “Why isn't he breathing? And he's not blinking—”

“That's normal,” Ahsoka murmured. “This is all normal.”

“Good thing you called when you did,” Fives grit through the pain of his broken arm.

The Senator frowned. “I didn't. R2 called me.”

Everyone looked around, trying to determine who'd given the command as the shuttle clunked and the engines powered down.

The droid whistled, a little self-congratulatory. Just a little.

“What is wrong with General Kenobi?” Amidala pursued.

“Don't know yet, Ma'am,” Chopper announced with the utmost politeness, and still covered in the gore he'd accumulated separating a corpse from Skywalker's hand earlier.

“If you'll excuse us, we're going to go find out.”

Rex stumbled down the landing ramp, helping Hardcase carry their general by his arms, his knees drawn up, looking for all the world like a child refusing to walk with his parents.

Fives had Ahsoka's arm over his good shoulder as they dragged themselves behind the first two, followed by Chopper and Tup, hauling Kenobi's limp form.

Rex had no idea who had cut the transmission, but R2 trailed at the very end of the procession.

He found Cody rushing to meet them, nearly mad with worry.

Cody had barely placed his hands on his brother's shoulders when he saw his unresponsive general.

Rex was left, utterly forgotten.

One tiny spark of normal in a sea of confusing disaster.

More normal washed around him as four bodies were urged onto cots in the medbay, Kix fussing over Ahsoka and Fives while Coric ran a myriad of tests on General Kenobi.

Skywalker lay on his side, propped up by an arm.

It looked strange enough that Rex moved over to tip him upright.

But that left his arms positioned as if he was leaning against something, and his General fell forward, leaving his ass in the air.

Ahsoka snorted. Then snickered.

And then outright laughed.

Kix ignored her hysteria, shoving her down onto the bed and muttering about lost blood as he sent new fluids into her system.

“Who else did he drink from?” Kix demanded.

Rex pointed at Fives, only to realize Fives had an accusing finger aimed for _him._

Rex found himself overwhelmed by the whirlwind of Kix, forced to sit and submit.

“Got it,” Coric announced, placing a hypo against his general's neck and dispensing it.

“For the love of,” Chopper muttered, moving over to roll Skywalker onto his back.

“Yeah. How is that  _better_ ?” Hardcase chuckled.

Coric ignored them. “General Kenobi is allergic to carbonite.”  
Another snicker from Ahsoka. “Nobody thought to check that beforehand?”

“It's not a standard thing to check, and no one has been put  _into_ it before,” Coric growled back. “Do you know how many people  _have_ this allergy? Less than one in a hundred thousand!”

“Just make it better,” Rex muttered.

That earned him a scowl from both medics.

“You do  _not_ adequately appreciate what it is we do,” Kix grumbled.

 

* * *

 

The Negotiator moved away from its star, and in the medbay, Skywalker relaxed against the cot.

Rex saw more confusion in his eyes, but quick glances around seemed to ease some of his worry.

Skywalker slid off the bed, moving as if drawn by a magnet to Kenobi's side.

“What is wrong with him?” Skywalker asked.

Coric eyed him. “Severe allergic reaction. He should be waking up soon.”

Although the others had been tended to, there seemed to be a reluctance to leave. Just what to  _do_ with the rest of the day seemed... too large to comprehend.

It was safer here, in a smaller space, simply breathing.

Simply knowing the people around them still breathed.

Skywalker's fingers danced over Kenobi's face and hair.

Something caught his attention and he stilled, staring at Kenobi's sleeve.

He moved, catching Kenobi's hand with his own, pulling the fabric free, revealing the terrible scar.

Skywalker didn't seem able to tear his gaze away from it, anguish in his face.

“Do you remember?” Ahsoka asked, her voice unsure. “Your capture?”

Skywalker nodded.

“And me? Do you remember me?”

Another nod.

Rex could practically feel Ahsoka's relief.

“And Rex and the boys?”  
Another nod.

A long silence, then...

“Master Obi-Wan?”

It took more time for Skywalker to respond, and Rex wondered if he was running through a catalogue of information in his head, as if _generalized_ knowledge of this man was not enough. The answer could only be _yes_ if he'd lost _nothing._

A nod allowed the people in the room to breathe again.

It didn't last long, because he had a question of his own. “Who was the woman in the hologram?”

“The Senator from Naboo,” Ahsoka murmured. “Padmé Amidala.”

He sent her a blank look.

Kix and Coric stared with wide eyes at Rex, but he avoided their gazes, instead meeting Cody's. The clone commander hovered in a corner, worry forming lines as deep as those made by the scars.

“Am I supposed to know her, somehow?” Anakin searched faces for an answer, but what he found only left him looking like a terrified child. He gripped his master's hand tighter and stared down into the still face.

Kenobi stirred, his eyes blinking open.

For a long moment he simply breathed, trying to regain his bearings. And then his gaze fell on Skywalker.

He lunged up to sit, his hands reaching for his apprentice. Rex winced as sleeves fell back to reveal more scars than just the one.

Kenobi clutched Skywalker close, shoulders heaving as he gasped for air.

And then he was sobbing, mouth open, desperate.

Rex joined the mass movement for the door, wishing the footsteps could drown out the sound of Kenobi's broken voice.

In the doorway he paused, looked back.

Wished he hadn't.

 

* * *

 

His master was here.

He was safe.

Anakin held the human close, using him as a shield against the fear and loss.

His master was hurting. Why was his master hurting?

“I'm sorry,” Obi-Wan choked. “I'm _sorry—_ ”

“Who is she, Master?” Anakin gripped tighter. “Who is the Senator from Naboo? They won't tell me.”

His master stopped breathing.

And then he had propelled himself out of Anakin's arms to vomit, succeeding in both that and unintentionally falling on the floor.

Anakin hovered over him, amazed by the force of the other's horror. “Obi-Wan?”

When Obi-Wan raised eyes to meet his, Anakin thought he saw his soul shatter behind them.

 

* * *

 

Satine left terrible wounds across his heart.

But to have her completely ripped from his memory—

Obi-Wan would rather endure  _anything_ than  _lose_ that.

_And because of my arrogance, you can't remember your love._

He stumbled upward to sit on the med cot, somehow wiped the vile fluid from his mouth, and looked up into wide, scared eyes.

In that moment, all Obi-Wan could see was the small child he'd taken into his life and soul. He held open his arms, and when Anakin came to him, he held him to his heart.

The vampire trembled, a whimper escaping his throat.

Obi-Wan stroked his hair and rocked him as Anakin mourned into his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood alone before the Council, chin held up.

_We're in trouble,_ Mace Windu thought.

It was the younger man's  _here I make my stand and on this hill I would gladly give my life_ look.

It hadn't been aimed at the Council often in the past few years; he'd seen it only once recently.

Right after that, Obi-Wan had gone to face Maul.

_What will it be this time?_

“Masters. I am here to resign my seat on the Council.”

If someone had dropped a concussion grenade, it couldn't have let loose a greater shockwave.

There was dead silence, as they all tried to process what in  _blazes_ he was talking about.

Seeing no one was about to say a word, Kenobi squared his shoulders and continued. “Many of you were on this Council when I reached the point of my Trials. For those of you who weren't, my Trials were waived because it was believed I'd defeated a Sith. I was granted my knighthood for that accomplishment. Upon that foundation I was granted the rank of master, then later appointed to this Council. As has come to light, I  _didn't_ defeat the Sith. As you are all aware, I recently dueled him again, and discovered that I have neither the power nor the skill we assumed I possessed. Instead, I won that original fight because of mistakes he made. Not only that, my inadequacy and arrogance resulted in dragging my former padawan into harm's way, resulting in irreparable damage. He has lost all memory of a very old friend.”

_You're really doing this, aren't you._

No one made a move to interrupt.

“I hereby resign my Council seat, as well as both the titles  _master_ and  _knight,_ though I will continue to serve in my military position as long as you have need of me.”

For a long moment not a breath of movement touched the chamber.

And then Fisto's fingers clenched into a fist. It was the only sign of his inner turmoil. “You wanted the title of knight so badly. You fought so hard for it. Against all odds.”

“I did not earn it. Without that, the words are empty for me.”

“So,  _what_ , you're taking the rank of padawan again?” Mace asked, hearing the aggression of his tone.  _That's not the way to get him back, Windu,_ he scolded himself.

Kenobi met his glare without a flinch. “No. Simply that of  _Jedi,_ as is customary for AgriCorps, ExplorCorps, and the others.”

_ He did  _ not  _ just do this to himself. _

Hadn't the man suffered  _ enough  _ without inflicting  _ this— _ ?

“What if we refuse this resignation?” Gallia asked.

_ She was close with Qui-Gon. If anyone can talk him out of it, she— _

“The Council does not have that authority.” Kenobi gave them a bow, turned, and walked out.

_ Holy kark. _

What the  _ frip  _ were they supposed to do now?

 

* * *  
  


It felt  _ good _ .

To walk out of there, knowing the only rank he possessed was his by right.

_ Though, if you ask Satine— _

But he  _ wasn't  _ asking Satine.

Her morals were beautiful, her conscience clear cut.

She had yet to be faced with a choice where to obey it would be to betray it.

Somehow, despite all the pain she'd inflicted, all the self-doubt she'd solidified, he hoped she would  _ never  _ face that kind of choice.

Where to act was wrong.

And where to refrain was worse.

_ May you be spared that nightmare. _

He sought Anakin out in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Found him staring at one of the turbulent pools.

“I can see her shape, through the frame of the memories surrounding what's missing.” Anakin didn't look up. “But whatever was inside...”

Obi-Wan's heart broke. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

Dead fingers reached out to touch the vicious scar on Obi-Wan's wrist. “You are not to blame. But why did you go alone?”

“I had to know,” Obi-Wan admitted, staring down at the twisted skin of so many burns. “I had to find out if the things others said about me were true.”

Anakin searched his face. “Why couldn't that include me?”

“Your light is so powerful,” Obi-Wan whispered, “I am always in your shadow. I wasn't doubting your competence, but mine. If I'd brought you, I would always have wondered if we succeeded because of  _ you  _ carrying the brunt.”

Anakin drew his fingers away from the torn skin. “Shouldn't that very fear answer your question?”

“How so?”

“The only reason you have to fear your exploits being surpassed by mine is because you taught me so well.”

“The fear isn't of  _ that. _ ”

Anakin sought his gaze. “Then  _ what _ ?”

“Imagine... imagine finding out that every race you'd ever competed in had been thrown in your favor.”

The vampire stilled.

“Imagine looking back, and wondering if  _ any  _ of it was real. Wouldn't you want to take on the most difficult of those tracks again, to see where you measured when the contest was  _ honest _ ? Wouldn't that be something you needed to do yourself?”

“But you didn't come away feeling victorious.”

A laugh escaped Obi-Wan. He saw Anakin flinch, but didn't know why. “I lost. Soundly. But instead of  _ me  _ being the one to suffer the penalty,  _ you  _ are the one who has to bear the cost. And not only did it prove I deserve none of the reputation I've built, I hurt you again. In the  _ worst  _ way—” His voice failed him. “This fight had nothing to do with you. But you're the one who's lost the most.”

“No.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Of course his friend was going to argue.

He was simply glad the younger man still  _ existed.  _ Arguing meant he was  _ here. _

Meant his mind hadn't been completely stolen.

“They took— they took  _ someone important _ away from me. They took away my knowledge of  _ why  _ that person was important. I don't know who she is or why I should care. But they murdered Qui-Gon. At least this Senator is still alive, even if I don't know why that matters. And worse, they took your confidence.”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “Certainly not  _ worse. _ ”

“ _ Yes,  _ worse. Because without it you won't be able to move forward.”

_There is no forward. There is only now, and then death._ If it didn't keep rejecting him. For some reason death seemed to have decreed he wasn't worth taking. Maybe that quality had been leeched from Qui-Gon when he became one with the Force.

He kept silent.

“Obi-Wan... disaster comes when we're not together. When united, we are  _ more  _ than we ever are separated.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, feeling the howling emptiness in his soul like wind through rafters. “The moment Qui-Gon discovered your existence, I ceased to be a person. When he looked at me, he knew my only significance comes from where my life intersects yours.”

It hurt to admit, but...

_ It was pride that  _ got  _ me here. _

“I felt I had to know that I was more than just your sidekick. I felt I couldn't define myself by you any longer. I couldn't  _ live  _ like that anymore. I'd thought some things were mine. Now I know they're not. I know you can understand I had to try.”

Anakin met his pleading gaze.

And yes.

He understood.

“My only claim to anything I thought I had earned is you. You're all that's left. And I can't take credit for the incredible man you've become. That was you. You took what little I had to offer, and have made something spectacular out of it in spite of me.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “I just wish that my flailing against the Force's will hadn't inflicted so much pain on you.”

Anakin squinted, clearly confused. “Wait—  _ what  _ is it you feel your destiny to be?”

“I'm your shadow.” Obi-Wan patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave. “In my arrogance, I refused to accept it at first. Now I know.”

He walked away, feeling Anakin's gaze on his back the whole way.

He needed to be alone, for a while.

It only hurt a little, now— the sting of knowing he had no value on his own.

He'd had plenty of warning and time to prepare. If he'd been paying more attention, he might have figured it out sooner.

Qui-Gon, so in tune with the Living Force, had been preparing him for this. He'd seen it, recognized it, tried to instill that understanding in his apprentice.

And then there had been Mortis.

Any lingering doubt Obi-Wan may have harbored about Anakin's identity and power had been stripped away in that arena, with the Daughter's claws threatening his life.

He'd  _ known. _

His arrogance had been running on borrowed time since then.

_ Today it dies. _

He knew his place.

He'd accepted it.

Now it was time to go out there and put an  _ end  _ to this war so they could get back to their  _ real  _ job.

And maybe... when it was all over...

If Satine hadn't found someone  _ else  _ by then _... _

Maybe she would forgive him.

_ Though probably not. _

 

* * *

 

Anakin hadn't wanted to make Obi-Wan feel unheard.

Hell.

Clearly that had been an ongoing problem.

_ How often do I respond to something he says with a  _ no  _ or  _ but _? _

Anakin stared at the swirling water, a dull ache in his heart. Obi-Wan had meant every word of what he'd said. Meant it with so much heart that it scared Anakin.

So he made up his mind.

It was the first time Anakin had ever gone to Mace Windu for help.

He wasn't expecting find the master looking for  _ him  _ in return.

“I'm worried about him,” Anakin admitted. “He seems lifeless. He's just existing now. It's like the fire's gone out. I don't know what to do to help him.”

And when the Korun master explained what had happened in the Council chamber, Anakin was left staring at him in horror.

“He did what?”

Mace didn't answer the clearly rhetorical question, so Anakin spoke again.

“If I try to tell him this is pointless, that he's wrong, he's not going to  _ hear  _ me. It doesn't matter how much I praise him— it's not going to make a dent.”

Windu grimaced. “So we've discovered. He's not listening to the Council, not Yoda, and not me. All his life he's struggled with Mind Healers. He refuses to cooperate with them, it ends up being a waste of time for the Minders— so the likelihood of being reached by them is slim too.”

“Who  _ would  _ he listen to?”  _ We have to  _ find  _ someone— _

“Qui-Gon,” was the immediate response.

Anakin winced at the truth and irrelevance of the reply. “Anyone alive?”

“Yes, but—” Windu hesitated.

Anakin frowned. “What's wrong? If there's  _ anyone  _ who could get through to him—”

“They're... not speaking at the moment.”

Anakin couldn't contain his frustration. He zipped away to run around a few of the trees to try to release some of the sheer  _ pain  _ in his soul, then was back at Windu's side almost before the older man had felt the air's displacement.

Windu gave him a strange look,  _ knowing  _ Skywalker had just walked away and come back, but didn't make an issue of it. He also didn't pause in his statement. “I don't know if they will be able to resolve their differences enough for him to  _ listen _ .”

“We have to try.” Anakin stared down at the grass, his subconscious counting every individual blade. “It's only going to get worse.”  _ One thousand two hundred nine.  _ “I don't understand  _ why  _ he lost to Maul. It doesn't make sense.”  _ Two thousand thirty. _ “From the security footage recovered, he wasn't fighting the way I know he  _ can. _ ”

Windu sighed. “He was fighting like he would have as a padawan.”

“ _ That. _ ” Anakin hadn't been able to figure out just  _ what  _ it was on his own, but Windu was right.  _ Two thousand five hundred twenty-seven.  _ “Why? He  _ isn't  _ that Obi-Wan anymore. He's learned so  _ much  _ since then. He's fought other  _ Sith  _ since then. Hell, he's become the definitive practitioner of Soresu, and he used  _ none  _ of that.”

“When he left, he said he needed to prove he'd won his knighthood. Bet he was reliving that time, instead of the actual battle in front of him.”

“No wonder he lost. He'll lose  _ again,  _ if he refuses to use what he's learned since then. It's almost twelve years of experience, a padawan, a grand padawan, and a war later. He isn't that helpless apprentice anymore.”

“Good luck getting him to believe that. Every time he faces Maul, he's going to have a problem.”

Anakin frowned. “Figure out a way to lock Obi-Wan in with this recalcitrant friend. They can beat each other up, get it figured out, and then we can snap him out of this.”

Mace gave him an appraising look. “Not a bad idea, Skywalker. Until that can be arranged, we should keep him busy running missions without you to underline the fact that he  _ can. _ ”

Anakin felt a twinge of regret. He didn't particularly want to be separated from his master, but Windu was right— Obi-Wan needed to have his nose rubbed in his own capabilities.

_ Three thousand seven hundred sixty-six— _

And then the older man walked away.

Anakin barely noticed. He couldn't remember if he'd counted  _ this  _ blade already or not, and he'd have to start  _ all over  _ if he couldn't figure it out.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly morning.

Obi-Wan would be moving on to Anakin's room in a minute to feed him. He just needed to stop by his own to grab the venom catcher.

He slapped the light key—

And had a heart attack as a shriek pierced the air and a pale Anakin flew backwards, crumbling into a corner, hands over his head, cowering—

“Sweet  _ mother  _ of—” Obi-Wan gasped, turning the light off again. “Anakin? Are you alright?”

He could sense the terror that gripped his former apprentice.

Stumbling through the dark, Obi-Wan made his way over and crouched beside him. “Hey.” He ran a hand over the fair curls. “Easy, Anakin. Easy. You're safe.”

The vampire shuddered and made a noise that fell somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I didn't— I didn't  _ know— _ ”

“It's alright,” Obi-Wan soothed. “You're not there anymore.”  
Strong, thing fingers clutched at him. “Apparently turning lights on is a problem now.”  
“You've handled most of the lights so far without trouble,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

Anakin shivered. “I should have known you'd turn it on as soon as you walked in. You can't see in the dark.”

“It was the suddenness of it that got to you?” He could relate.

The nod was swift. “Night. That wasn't at all embarrassing.”  
“Panic attacks aren't embarrassing,” Obi-Wan argued. Force knew he experienced them often enough himself.

Anakin went very still for a moment, and then the trembling started in again. “There was no warning, each time they— just safe one moment,  _ not  _ the next—  _ burning. _ ”

Obi-Wan drew him closer, knowing the vampire needed more contact. With his free hand, he called a small container over. Anakin took the catcher from him, and with grim resignation, chomped down on it. Obi-Wan could hear the soft patter inside— one, two, silence—

Anakin set the jar aside and gathered Obi-Wan's hand in his own. He stared down at Obi-Wan's wrist, undoubtedly able to see the scars.

The older Jedi felt relieved when Anakin slid fangs into flesh without protest. At least that argument was one they could sidestep.

He finger-combed Anakin's hair with his other set of fingers, desperately grateful to have found him again.

Despite the pain, his exhaustion had grown to be too much to stay awake.

He slumped against Anakin's shoulder and slept.

 

* * *

 

Anakin pulled free, and for a moment he simply sat there, feeling the safe weight of Obi-Wan against him, listening to his master breathe.

He considered not moving, allowing himself to meet dawn like this...

And then he remembered that humans slept better lying down, so he scooped Obi-Wan up and placed him on the bed.

Anakin curled up on the floor beside him, and closed his eyes to wait for dusk.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I fully intend to write more in the Undead Chosen One series, but there may be some time between this one and the next.


End file.
